A/N: Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. It has been a hectic few weeks, and I just didn't get a chance to sit and finish it sooner! Thanks again for all your reviews!!
Chapter 13
Hermione sat on her couch, cross legged, contemplating how best to execute her disappearance. She knew she was being melodramatic, but she had limited her options. Having sex with Malfoy, in his office, on his couch, during office hours, with his assistant just outside, made her want to throw herself off a cliff for her spontaneous foolishness. It really was the embodiment of going against every grain of self control that a mature, professional adult usually possessed. At least she hadn't called him Draco in the moment. That really would have driven her over the edge in afterthought. The habit of calling him Malfoy was so ingrained that it was almost innate. It would take her weeks of practice to break that brain connection that had been made concrete after so many years.
In the aftermath, she could smell a mixture of her own sweat and his scent on her skin, and it had proved futile to return to work that afternoon. She called upon Daria to take care of matters, pretending that she would be working from home. Every time she blinked, her body flushed as images of them together flickered under her eyelids. Having sex with Malfoy had stirred a whole new level of subtext that existed between them. Sadly, she had no one to confide in. Not Ron, not Ginny, certainly not her mother, and Harry, well, she did not want to bother him since he was away again. Hermione had just crossed every invisible barrier that she had created during her lifetime almost too willingly, it seemed. So, now what?
Furrowing in despair, she could not help ease her mental disarray and came to the conclusion that she would consult a muggle therapist. Perhaps some professional guidance would provide some clarity? Reluctantly, Hermione rang her mother.
"Hermione! Where have you been, dear? You're the hardest person to reach!" she exclaimed through the telephone.
"Hi mum. I've just been busy, that's all," Hermione reassured.
"You know Maryann's daughter? She just got engaged!"
"That's great, mum," Hermione replied, disinterested. Her mother had this obsession with her best friend's daughter, always managing to make implied comparisons.
"To that Damien fellow, he is such a handsome man, and he owns his own business!"
"That's great, mum." Hermione was on autocue. "Mum, can you tell me the name of that popular therapist Maryann was talking about at your Christmas party?"
"Why do you need that?"
"I want to contact her to ask her a few questions for an article idea I have."
"When am I going to see this magazine you keep talking about, Hermione? You are so involved in your work, do you even socialise?"
Hermione cringed. "Mum! I will send you a copy, ok! Can we discuss this at breakfast tomorrow instead?"
"Well, I'm glad you're not cancelling on me again. Just give me a moment," she put the receiver down and shuffled away. Hermione leaned back on her couch, sighing. Mixing business and pleasure was her current form of socialising, what a mess! The rustling on the other end signalled the return of her vocal mother.
"Okay, here it is dear. Dr Glenys Groves. Is that all you need?"
"Yes, that's fine. I'll look her up." Hermione used her wand to write the name in the air, it hung there, a glistening azure. "Thanks, mum, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Very well, always busy with work, just like your father. He is working on Saturdays now, you know? I told him to shut the surgery on the weekend, but he won't listen!"
Hermione slumped back into the couch; it was always an effort to end phone conversations with her mother. Silently groaning, she did not want to tell her that she was home on a Friday. It would raise all sorts of questions from a mother who considered her daughter a raging workaholic. "Mum, you can't blame him for loving his job. He's doing the community a service. How many people get toothaches on a weekend and have to wait until Monday to have it attended to?"
"There is not need to rationalise, dear. You and you father are workaholics, plain and simple. You don't seem me driving to be in the surgery all week. I have hobbies, social activities. What are you doing these days? Harry is always away, and Ron is married, do you have any friends to go out with, Hermione?" Hermione was silent. "Hermione?"
"Mum, I have to go, okay?" She could hear her mother sigh through the receiver.
"Alright, bye dear," she huffed.
"Bye." Hermione hung up and tossed the hand's free onto the coffee table. She waved her wand to erase the name of Dr Groves in frustration. Who needed a therapist when your mother had just given you a diagnosis? There it was, in a nutshell, Hermione had no social life. She had depended so long on Harry and Ron, but now they were no longer always available. She had failed to make any close girlfriends, other than Ginny, and this had contributed to her current predicament. Everything she did correlated in some way to her work. Hermione Granger was married to her job, and Draco Malfoy was currently fast tracking her divorce.
OOO
Hermione, much to her chagrin, had not stopped thinking about Malfoy, and inevitably, sought the comforts of her office and her work. Her excuse to herself was that she had wasted enough time thinking about the mess that was her life, having taken Friday off to mope about, so, it was okay that she was at the office on a Saturday afternoon to make up for lost time. Really, it balanced itself out, or so she tried to convince herself.
Despite the aftermath of their initial meeting, Hermione conceded that she and Malfoy had worked productively that morning at the café, surprising each other that they could focus on business. Even so, she was frustrated at the Ministry for their roundabout methods and their habits of informing her on a need to know basis. Clearly, being the director of her department was losing its perks. Nevertheless, having mastered her killer work ethic, Hermione efficiently ran through her 'to-do' list, which any normal person would consider rather self-deprecating, with efficiency that left her with the satisfaction she had learned to crave over the years. Without a doubt, her work was an addiction, the pleasure of completing a task, her high.
A knock at her office door, Hermione was startled out of concentration. She looked up to see Lavender Brown standing in her doorway.
"Lavender! Hi! What are you doing here on a Saturday arvo?" Lavender laughed at Hermione's shock.
"I'd ask you the very same thing, although I'm not surprised in your case," she replied. Hermione frowned, before shielding her infuriation at the general consensus with a shrug. "We've had some rather tedious applications for licences. Several of the requests are causing problems, you know, what with all the restrictions and exclusions. It's doing my head in!" Lavender was the associate director for the business licensing department who worked on the same floor. They issued licences to businesses for the use of potentially volatile and difficult forms of magic, as well as exclusive rights for patented charms, potions and the like. Hermione considered it a rather dry area, and smiled apologetically. She could at least empathise with the Ministry's ongoing trial and tribulations.
"Any plans for the evening?" Hermione offered, trying to steer away from discussing her work.
"Yes, actually. A bunch of us are going to that new bar on Diagon Alley. I think it's called 'Blue Diamond', or something diamond, you should come!"
"Uh, thanks for the offer, but I have something on tonight, too." Hermione felt like Lavender was inviting her as a friendly gesture after having revealed her plans. She did not want to impose.
"Oh, come on! It will be great fun. The club opens late, am sure you can come after your previous engagement," she steered. Lavender seemed rather eager with the idea, a pleading look plastered on her face. Hermione felt obliged to say 'yes', and it certainly would help her social life.
"Well, I guess you're right. What time are you expecting to get there?" she conceded.
"I'm meeting Padma and Pavarti at ten. I think Padma is brining her fiancé. Can you believe she is going to marry Blaise Zabini! That was a surprise!" she laughed. "He's actually a great guy, under that Slytherin façade, and hot, too!" she admitted begrudgingly. Hermione chuckled. She briefly wondered whether Blaise's attendance would mean that Malfoy would turn up, but actively extinguished that thought from her head.
"I saw Padma and Blaise recently at Ron's house. They seem really into each other. Are you or Pavarti bringing anyone?" she asked. There was no way Hermione would be a tag along singleton.
"Pavarti just broke up with her boyfriend, so, I am being the loyal 'besty', a beacon of support, and more importantly, a fine drinking buddy. You know I don't do boyfriends. At least, not until I find the right one," she smiled mischievously. Hermione suddenly felt a pang of jealousy in the pit of her stomach.
"Pavarti is lucky to have such a great friend."
"Well, the more drinking buddies, the merrier!" she professed knowingly. "We'll meet out the front. You won't miss the line of people. If you're late, just let them know you're on Lavender Brown's list. See you tonight!" Hermione nodded.
OOO
If one could not recall the last time they had been out to a bar or club that was a sure sign of a lacking social life. Hermione was one such person, as she stood in front of her wardrobe wrapped in a bath towel, exasperated that she possessed nothing befitting a girl who was about to embark on a night out on the town. Her closet was full of work clothes, casual wear, and several ball gowns that were much too formal. If only she had declined Lavender's invitation more vigorously. It was 9pm and she was still standing before her closet, giving the appearance that she was perhaps awaiting the imminent 'ah-ha' moment on what to wear.
Hermione looked over to her evening gowns, her hand grazing over the most recent gown that bore the attachment of particular memories; she decided that her best option was to alter a gown that she was unlikely to wear again. Her eyes fell on the dress she had worn to Ron and Luna's wedding and pulled it out. It was a black floor length gown, with thin spaghetti straps and a horizontal gathered chiffon around the bust that fell to a slight v-shape. It fitted her body around the bust and fell out around her to mid calf. If she shortened it, perhaps it would do. The only problem was, despite her intelligence, Hermione's lack of practice in alteration charms meant that she had repeated the charm a few times before it evenly shortened the length, bringing it to mid-thigh when she had finally got it right. Determined no to try her luck ruining another expensive gown, she had no choice but to overcome her insecurity and wear it.
Standing before the mirror, Hermione hesitated at the exposure of so much leg which was emphasised by her black pleated satin stiletto heels, with a simple strap across her toes and one around the ankle. She had tied her hair into a high ponytail so that her curls were out of her face and in an orderly display that would not be untamed with the assistance of much hairspray. Her lips were red, to contrast the black, and her eyes smudged, not out of skill but in a quick effort to conceal her poor attempt with the eye-pencil. She could not recall ever dressing this way; and yet, it was 9:50 and she did not have time to re-evaluate. Grabbing her purse, Hermione apparated to Diagon Alley, extinguishing any apprehension the mirror had bestowed.
As predicted by Lavender, this was clearly the night to be out as the line to this so called new bar extended around the corner and into the laneway of the locale of her favourite café. Feeling the chill, Hermione was not in a mood to wait in line, and hurriedly scanned the crowd for any sign of Lavender, Pavarti, Padma, and even Blaise. Nothing. Decidedly, she made her way to the front of the queue, ignoring the stares and glares of other intended patrons, and approached the door man. He was a tall, dressed in startling blue robes that remarkably matched his eyes. The diamond logo on his right breast glittered under the moonlight. It certainly was a rather flashy establishment if he sported such an elaborate uniform. Hermione gulped, she he never been one to try and gain entry to a venue using her charm and supposed guest list excuse.
"Excuse me? I believe my friends might already be inside. I'm with Lavender Brown."
The man conjured a list with a wave of his wand and scanned through it. Hermione waited, feeling rather foolish as the people at the front of the line eyed her angrily. She guessed they'd been waiting a while to get to where they were. The man looked up, his eyes scanning over her before smiling, and nodding. The velvet cobalt rope guarding the entrance vanished and he gestured her to move through. She flashed him her smile, reserved only for the Minister of Magic, for she was very grateful for the swiftness of the transaction of her bold efforts. She moved passed him, and he winked, taking her by surprise.
Hermione felt like she had just stepped into a palace in the middle of Zanzibar. The ornate décor took her breath away as she observed the great space around her. Golden statues of figures holding candles, great archways, velvet walls, red curtains which acted as shield to private areas, and a great oval bar in the centre, a stark black marble. She scanned through the crowd hoping to catch sight of a familiar face. Failing to do so, Hermione made her way down the stairs to the pit which contained the bar, gently pushing her way through the carefree bodies who were chatting over the loud music or dancing. Hermione found herself at the bar, noticing that the ceiling over it was charmed as small diamond like teardrops fell gently, disappearing just before they made contact with the skin. Mesmerized by the effect, and eager to order a drink, Hermione observed the people on the opposite end of the bar as she waited for a free bartender. It certainly was a crowd that was out to impress and be seen. The women were glamorous, and she had never seen so many good looking and sharply dressed men in the one room. Although, the fact that she hardly went out to such places was a factorial consideration.
Finally, she caught the eye of one of the bartenders dressed in cobalt short double breasted jackets, sighing gratefully that she could finally get a drink in her hand. "Vodka, soda with fresh lime, please," she so much as shouted. The bartender nodded nonchalantly, as if she had just pronounced it in a quiet room and set to work. She tapped her fingers to the music against the bar's surface as she waited for her drink. The bartender returned with her glass, and she moved to retrieve money from her purse to pay for it.
He waived her off, "It's already been paid for," he mouthed. Hermione must have given him a mighty look of utter confusion for he laughed at her reaction and pointed in the direction to her right. She leaned over the bar, tilting her head forward to get a better look. Her heart almost stopped, as there was no mistaking that light blonde mop of hair that had haunted her. Malfoy! She should have guessed as much. He lifted his drink, tilting his head in a gesture of 'bottoms up' before knocking back whatever he had left in his glass, setting the tumbler down and sending her an unmistakeable wink; her second for the evening. Was there something wrong with people's eyes tonight? She gestured to the bartender to lean forward toward her.
"Get him another of whatever he was drinking, on me," she directed. The bartender nodded, smiling. She looked back over at Malfoy whose expression was priceless as the drink was set down before him. She picked up her vodka, nodded over to him in gesture and took a sip, feeling rather content. The distance between them was something she intended to maintain throughout the evening, otherwise her head would start reeling over that incident in his office. She turned her back to the bar to scan the room once again in hope of spotting Lavender.
"Hermione, is that you?" She looked to her right.
"Luna?"
"I almost didn't recognise you. What are you doing here?" Hermione was taken aback by her bluntness.
"I'm here with some friends," she replied as politely as was sickly possible.
"Really? Who?" Oh, she could feel her eye twitch.
"Lavender Brown," she offered reluctantly. Luna raised an eyebrow, which Hermione caught as the lights flickered brightly at the right time. "Is Ron here?"
"No, Carla invited me to her VIP function. Ron is out with some friends having a boy's night." Hermione nodded, sipping her drink to avoid speaking. So, Carla was here, which explained Malfoy's presence. She looked ahead, lost for words, as she felt Luna scrutinize her outfit. The irony that it was the dress she had worn to her wedding made her smirk.
"Have you heard from Harry?" Hermione shook her head in response.
"He's back on tour, I suppose," she shouted over the music. Luna nodded, sipping her drink.
"Carla is probably waiting for me. I'll catch up with you a bit later?"
"Sure," she smiled, relieved. Luna nodded, and moved passed her, in the direction of one of the private areas. Wondering where she should begin her search for Lavender, she felt a tap on her shoulder and someone lean in to speak to her.
"Hermione?" She turned her head to see Blaise smiling at her.
"Hi, Blaise."
"The girls are on the other side. Follow me." She smiled and proceeded to make her way through the crowd as he led her towards a less populated area.
"Hermione, you made it! You look great!" Lavender exclaimed, kissing Hermione on the cheek. Lavender, of course, looked glamorous in her short red number, her hair styled to one side. "You remember Pavarti?" she gestured. Hermione nodded toward the familiar face. Pavarti was still the perfect picture of a fine beauty.
"Hi Pavarti, how are you? It's been ages!" Pavarti was clearly a little tipsy and excitedly hugged Hermione. "Hermione! Wow! It's so good to see you! You look amazing!" She was all exclamations in her heightened state. Hermione couldn't help but blush at her attention drawing gestures.
"You're looking great Pavarti, as always."
"Not great enough for Michael, it seems," her face fell dramatically. Hermione felt obliged to give the heartbroken woman another hug, rubbing her back soothingly.
"Forget about men tonight, Pavarti, just let loose and enjoy yourself, okay?" Pavarti nodded, smiling. Lavender came over with two drinks in hand, giving each a glass of champagne. Hermione inwardly laughed at the flute in her right hand, and her half-full vodka in her left. It was a far cry from her usual Saturday evening sitting on her couch. She gulped down the rest of her vodka, the bite of the lime tackling her taste buds.
"Ladies. Cheers! To a fabulous girls night out!" Hermione could not help but respond to Lavender's energy and enjoyed the company of the two tipsy girls. They danced freely, chatted to men that approached them, included Hermione in on jokes at which she could not help but laugh at their crudeness. Hermione had not had a single consuming thought all evening and had finally freed herself from her distractions, even to the point where she willingly danced with a very attractive man who had surprised her with his attentions.
Lavender and Pavarti came over to Hermione and her new acquaintance, giggling, "Hermione, we are just going to the ladies, won't be long," Lavender called out over the music, winking suggestively at Hermione and her new partner. Hermione rolled her eyes knowingly. They were leaving her alone with the attractive man. They hurried off quickly before she could respond.
"Hermione. That's a gorgeous name," the attractive man leaned in and said. She smiled at his flirting as he grabbed her around the waist and brought her in closer. "It suits you perfectly," he whispered in her ear, in their more intimate embrace. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks, grateful that it was too dark for him to see. Feeling adventurous and the effects of the drinks Lavender had been constantly handing her throughout the evening, Hermione responded to his dance moves.
"Can I get you a drink?" He asked after a few minutes.
"Sure."
He flashed a smile that showed off his perfect set of teeth. "Don't go anywhere," he ordered flirtatiously, his hand moving down her lower back before letting her go.
The attention was overwhelming, and she could not help but smile to herself as she leaned against a nearby chair.
"So, Granger, were you planning on avoiding me all evening?" She was startled by the familiar voice that had snuck up on her. She spun her head around to face the intruder.
"Malfoy! You scared me!" she wavered.
"Having fun?" he leered.
"As a matter of fact, I am," she affirmed, feeling unnerved by his closeness.
"So, were you planning on avoiding me all evening?" he questioned again, his head cocked to one side.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered.
"Well usually, buying someone a drink is a gesture to chat to them. You totally threw it back in my face. Worried we might get carried away again?" he raised an eyebrow suggestively.
"Somehow, I doubt that."
"Well then, why are you so edgy?"
"Perhaps the presence of your girlfriend might have something to do with it?"
"Who?"
"Your. Girlfriend. Carla"
"She's not my girlfriend, Granger."
"Right."
"No, I'm serious."
"You don't need to convince me, Malfoy."
"Come on, Granger. Whatever happened to just having fun?"
"Malfoy, I think we have very different ideas of fun."
"I beg to differ, Granger. Have I mentioned you look ravishing tonight? I am a legs man myself."
"Malfoy, are you drunk?"
"I might be," he grinned. It caught her off guard.
"Look, I really don't think we should be talking to each other." She looked around worriedly. The last think she wanted was to be spotted chatting to Malfoy, by anyone.
"Am I interrupting something?"
"As a matter of fact, you are."
"You don't want to mix with Adrian, Granger."
"Who?"
"Adrian!" he yelled over the music. "That guy who is all over you." She furrowed her brow at him, frustrated.
"Why do you care?"
"I don't. Just a word of advice," he shrugged.
"Right, well I am a grown woman. I think I can manage."
"Dutch courage, Granger, it can impede your judgement."
"I'm not drunk, Malfoy. Lavender and Pavarti will be coming back any minute. They will definitely ask questions if they saw me talking to you." He was taken aback by her bluntness and she could see he was offended.
"Well, Granger, we did a lot more than talk the other day, and now you are worried about being seen with me? You really are an enigma, Granger," he spat, eyes narrowed.
She instantly regretted what she had said. "I'm sorry, I just…I just don't know what to make of it, ok?" she almost pleaded. She looked into his eyes, for the first time properly that night, and could feel her emotions running astray. He was so distracting and consuming, his all black outfit emphasising his remarkable features.
"Whatever, Granger. Trying to avoid me is not going to change the fact that we slept together." She cringed as he voiced his thoughts. His affirmation made it more real.
"I know! I just don't want to think about it tonight," she shouted with exasperation.
"Well you have chosen the right guy to help you forget!"
"I am not going to sleep with him, Malfoy! What do you take me for?" He shrugged.
"Well thanks a lot. You think I'm just another girl willing to hop into bed with any guy that shows an interest? That's great, Malfoy, just great! I see that I was just another conquest. Like you said, it was inevitable, since I'm so easy!" She lifted her arms and dropped them in defeat.
"Hang on a second, Granger. Don't get carried away." He moved to grab her arm and she jerked it out of his reach. His face expressed rage.
"Just leave me alone, Malfoy." She turned to walk away.
"Granger!" She ignored him as she saw Adrian coming back up the stairs with drinks in hand, and hoped that Malfoy would just take a hint. She flashed a smile, welcoming back the interruption to her everlasting distraction.
A/N: This chapter is in two parts...sorry!
